A Note from Fatty: This post, originally published May 25, 2005, is part of my “Rescue Fatty’s Old Stuff from His MSN Spaces Archive” project — back from before I had my own domain. Weekend by weekend, little by little, I’ll eventually get it all moved over.
I really like the bike route I have to work. The good people of Redmond and Sammamish have done an excellent job of making bike-friendly roads, not to mention some great bike paths.
Each morning as I bike down E. Lake Sammamish Blvd, I’ve got beautiful houses and trees on my right, and a gorgeous lake on my left. Not to mention a 6-ft-wide road shoulder (in good condition, even!) to keep me from being squeezed by traffic.
Then, as I cut across Marymoor park, I’ve got the road to myself for a few minutes as I look at all the cool facilities this park has — a public velodrome, a climbing wall, an off-leash dog park, a model airplane flying park, and a huge number of fields for baseball, soccer, etc. Nice.
But then, as I turn onto the bike path paralleling W. Lake Sammamish Blvd, I get to the one part of the ride I truly fear: The geese.
I don’t know why, but the geese — dozens of them — all want to sit on the bike path. And they have claimed it as their own. They poop all over the path (goose poop is about the same size as cat poop: not trivial). And they do not rush to get out of the way, slowly ambling as I whoop and holler to clear a path.
And this time of year, it’s worse. Much, much worse. For the geese now have goslings to protect. Where the adult geese are normally just apathetically belligerent, now they are protective and easily angered. They do not move off the path until all their kids are off the path, which can take a good, long time. And if you get too close, they’ll hiss in a surprisingly terrifying manner. If you ignore that, they spread their wings and — I assume — attack, pecking out your eyes with their razor-sharp bills. (I’m talking hypothetically in this last instance, because I’ve always chickened out and backed down once they get to the open-wing stage.)
Someday, these geese will get their comeuppance. I will be brave and ride a straight line down the center of the path. I will not brake. I will not coast.
Then they’ll probably gang up and kill me. And I will be in the paper with the tragic headline:
Local Fat Cyclist Dies in Goose Attack
I can think of more embarrassing ways to go. But not many.